


Feast With The Dead

by unbroken_halo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27001792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbroken_halo/pseuds/unbroken_halo
Summary: Harry's not brooding this Halloween: he's just had a long day. Hermione's determined to make certain that he doesn't stay long in his melancholy and get him closure for the past.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	Feast With The Dead

**Author's Note:**

> In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HalloweenHarmonyComp2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HalloweenHarmonyComp2019) collection.
> 
>  **Prompt** : Harry and Hermione return to Godric’s Hollow on Halloween night 1998. To their surprise, an ancient Samhain ritual is taking place, calling the spirits of those who have passed through the veil of death, including Harry’s parents.
> 
> This piece was written for Harmony & Co’s Halloween Competition, Double Double Toil and Trouble. However, I wasn't able to submit it in time. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work. Thank you to my CC for the once over, any remaining mistakes are of my own making. Pagan traditions are some that I have followed and used from personal experience.

Harry entered the foyer of Number 12 Grimmauld Place and shut the door with a sigh. He leaned back against the heavy door and closed his eyes, resting his chin against his chest. Outside, he could hear the traffic moving on the street and children shouting as they ran down the path in front of the houses along the tree-lined lane.

Though the noises were muffled, they sounded as loud as if Harry were still out on the street, and he knew it was because of the day he'd had, as well as the date. Escaping the Ministry's controlled chaos had lessened the minor headache that had formed as the day wore on, but nothing could drive the pain's reason for existing from his mind. He'd been oblivious to the meanings as a child because of ignorance, through no fault of his own, but now after years of trial by fire, the last day of October, though a day of celebration for many, was a sombre day for Harry. Not because he was grieving for his parents even now, but more so that he was mourning the loss of the idea of a family.

Over the years he'd made his kith and kin because his original birth parents were lost to him before lasting memories could be formed. Harry had moved on and yet, or so it seemed to him, he was moving slower than his friends, and for some reason, on this day, in particular, the emotional strain just seemed to hit home harder than most.

The boisterous sounds of the trick-or-treaters outside broke into his moment of self-evaluation, and grated on his nerves, bringing back the sadness that had brought him home early from work. Harry pushed off the door, tossing his cloak at the ugly tree coat standing at the ready right near the end of the staircase. The enchanted furniture caught the fabric just before it hit the floor, snapped the government issued, spelled garment free of wrinkles and then hung it on an arm. The coat tree settled down to an inert state once more as Harry left the area.

He made his way down to the basement kitchen, for a cup of tea and possibly a Dreamless Sleep Potion, the noises of the street fading behind him and Harry sighed once more. Halting at the bottom of the stairs with a groan, he discovered someone sitting at his table: Hermione. 

As he watched, Hermione prepared a pot of tea, he decided he was pleased but not surprised. Although really, he should have known she would be waiting on him, all things considered. She knew him best out of their entire circle of friends. Still, it wouldn't do to let her know that. Might give her a big head.

"Make yourself at home, darling, why don't you?" Harry muttered as Hermione sat, calmly pouring out a steaming cup of fragrant bergamot tea.

"Hello, Harry. There's no need to be rude."

"Do I even want to know why or how you got here before me?" Harry sighed.

"I came straight here, leaving the Ministry just after you did, knowing that you would lock yourself into this house for the night, and I was hoping to prevent that." Hermione turned and eyed him then smiled. "Did you stop and get sugar? There's not a cube to be had in this house. I'm desperate for this cuppa and I've one waiting for you as well."

Harry followed her hand wave and noticed the second, steaming cup sitting across from her on the scarred table and shook his head. He chuckled and walked around the bench, sliding in front of her and pulling out the shrunken package of sugar cubes he'd picked up from the greengrocers.

While Harry resized the sugar, Hermione withdrew two packages of biscuits from her bag and Summoned a plate from the cupboard. He watched her delicately arrange the lemon biscuits on one side and the ginger nut snaps, his favourite, on the other.

Dropping three cubes in his tea and a stingy, single cube in Hermione's cup, Harry continued to watch Hermione stack the biscuits on the plate. He smirked as she stalled for time and leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm, before speaking. "Are you going to tell me your plan?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Harry sniffed and leaned back on the bench as he sipped his tea. He reached out and grabbed one of the ginger nuts. Crunching into the biscuit, he waited while Hermione nibbled on a lemon cookie, hoping she would cave faster than he.

Continuing to eat his biscuits and sip his tea, while Hermione did the same, the silence in the kitchen grew thick and Harry still waited. He grabbed another biscuit and Hermione sighed heavily then reached across the table and grabbed his wrist. "Fine. We are going to Godric's Hollow tonight. I think you need closure, Harry. You can't keep moping around like this."

Harry blinked and stared at her for a long moment then shook his head. "Beg pardon?"

Hermione let go of his wrist and ran her hands over her face, and then looked him in the eye. "It's something I learned after I brought my parents back from Australia. We had several visits with a counsellor and the sessions certainly helped to settle the feelings that had developed after the war."

Harry arched a brow. "You mean you have guilt and your parents are angry with you after you used magic on them when you promised not to have done, so now you need to analyse everyone around you."

Hermione gaped at him and Harry chuckled. "Ginny told me what happened."

"Ginny doesn't know when to keep her big mouth shut is what you mean." Scowling, Hermione tossed her biscuit on the plate and dusted her hands on the napkin. "No… I don't have... well, there's a little guilt. I did promise not to use magic on them without their permission, but you and I both know that they would have been killed, Harry."

He held up a hand. "I know, you don't have to justify it to me."

Sagging, she smiled at him and Harry felt something thrill through his veins. When she leaned across the table, Harry took her hand. At that moment, he felt a ray of sunshine break through the melancholy that had enfolded his life of late. Her small fingers were soft and warm in his hand and she squeezed his palm with a gentle touch. 

"So you'll go with me? Ron said you wouldn't, and that I ought to let you be."

Frowning, Harry looked down at their twined fingers and thought about the day he'd had and the past year. So many things had changed in their circle of friends, but the constant of the three of them hadn't. The fact that she'd had to discuss him with their respective exes rather irritated him but he knew it was only out of concern. Further still, that Ron felt the need to speak first without thinking was all too typical of their friend. Nothing had changed and that soothed his ire.

He looked back up at Hermione, at the hope shining in her brown eyes and the expectant expression on her face. Right then and there he knew he would do whatever it was she wanted just because it was his Hermione. Still, if he gave in too easily, she would think she was right, and he couldn't have that.

"You know, I don't need this closure that your therapist speaks of, yeah? I had a moment with my parents in the forest."

"Oh?" She leaned closer. "You've never said anything about that night."

Harry nodded. "I know. I never felt the need to burden you with such things. I bothered you and Ron with enough that year. I never wanted--"

Her soft fingers pressed against his mouth and Harry swallowed as he met her gaze. The look in her eyes was a fierce one and he fought off the shudder that slithered down his spine. 

"Don't even say another word against yourself, Harry James Potter, or anything else that has occurred during the years of our friendship. I don't need apologies from you or Ron. What happened was in the past. We were children and it wasn't our responsibility. That blame lies on the adults who were supposed to care for us." 

Slowly, she withdrew her hand and Harry knew she was right, but he also realized something else. Her touch lingered on his mouth and he liked it. He wanted more of her against him and he wanted to know what she tasted like.

He licked his lips trying to catch a taste of her that remained on his skin. His thoughts shocked him for a moment because this was Hermione. She had been his best friend, like a sister for so long, and had once been Ron's girl, and that was against the code. But then again, everything else had changed, so why couldn't this?

Hermione had firmly inserted herself in his life after the war, especially with both of them working at the Ministry once Ron had left to work with George. He didn't feel the need, or the desire, to oust her when she began to spend more and more time at his home either, especially with all his other friends moving on. Maybe she had already started to change her mind about him?

Harry eyed her as she stared at him, and took a deep breath. He started to speak but Hermione held up a hand, stopping anything else he was about to say. 

"Pay attention to me because I'm not done speaking."

Harry narrowed his eyes at her but nodded. She eyed him for a long moment then said, "As for any other actions that may take place…"

Smirking at him, Hermione ran her tongue across her lips and Harry tracked the movement. Hermione stared right back then blew a kiss at him. Harry startled at the action and then laughed with her. Hermione shoved him across the table and shook her head. "We are adults now."

"So I noticed."

She shook her head at him and then continued.

"We were tossers, then, because all children at that age are. They are trying to figure out who they are and given that we had a deadly weapon with minimal supervision, it's a wonder that we didn't kill one another."

Harry laughed out loud again. She was correct, and even though he hated to admit it, it was true. He watched her laugh and admired her. Deep brown eyes and wild curls bouncing as she chuckled. Hermione wasn't someone who was considered conventionally beautiful, but to Harry, she was more than that. She was smart, loyal and his constant, and to him, that was more attractive than beauty. It dawned on him that something had definitely changed between them and he was looking forward to pursuing it.

Hermione grinned. "It doesn't make it right, and I'm not excusing it, but it's in the past. All we can do now is try and make things better."

Nodding, Harry agreed. "All right, I suppose Sirius was correct when he said that we were all idiots at fifteen."

Humming, Hermione reached back across the table and took Harry's hand. "Yes, I agree. One of the few things Sirius was correct about. Now, tell me about that night. Don't think I got distracted, just because our conversation derailed."

"I'll tell you on one condition." 

"All right." 

He watched her bob her head, her curls bouncing as she bit her lip in anticipation and excitement. Her eyes danced as she waited for him to spill the secret and once again Harry wanted nothing more than to lean forward and taste her. To reach across the table and press against her lips to see if she was as sweet as she appeared to be. 

"You have to let me talk this time with no interruptions, and then we won't ever speak of this again."

Biting her lip, Hermione nodded. "I agree."

Harry took a deep breath deciding on how to tell her what needed to be said until it came to him. "That night I used all three Deathly Hallows." 

Hermione gasped, but Harry kept going even as she squeezed his hand tightly. He gripped their hands with his other hand and she placed her left hand on top.

"I used the Cloak to sneak out of the castle. The Stone next and my parents, Remus and Sirius walked the entire way with me to the clearing. Voldemort and I had a conversation and he killed the Horcrux in my scar."

Hermione made a sound and Harry grinned at her. "I know. Next time when we duelled, though he had the Elder wand made by Death, I was the one that was the true master of it. When Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore on the Tower, control passed to Malfoy. When I disarmed Malfoy at his manor and took his wand, then I became the controller. The wand, itself, doesn't matter so much, not really. Ollivander was right about that saying 'the wand chooses the wizard'. Voldemort only stole the Elder Wand, he didn't win its allegiance. Make sense?"

Slowly, Hermione nodded, and Harry waited for the questions to fall from her lips. And he knew there would be questions. She wouldn't be his Hermione if she didn't ask, and so he sipped his rapidly cooling tea and nibbled on another biscuit while she processed what he had told her.

"I still think you need to have closure," Hermione said.

Surprised because she hadn't asked one question, Harry settled his empty cup on the table. "I don't, but because I care about you, I'll indulge you this once."

Laughing, Hermione stood. "Get your cloak then. We can have dinner after."

"You'll pay."

"All right," Hermione giggled. "But you are going to Side-Along us."

"Fine," Harry huffed and Summoned their jackets. After adjusting Hermione's collar, he slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and pulled her close. Her perfume floated up to him, wrapped about him as he closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply of her scent and pictured the little lane that led up to the square which housed the church and graveyard in Godric's Hollow.

* * *

The little hamlet appeared before Harry and Hermione, and Harry stared around at the village before him. The last time he had been in Godric's Hollow, it had been Christmas, and snow had covered everything. Now, the crisp air of Autumn nipped at his nose and ears, and he felt Hermione shiver beside him. He held her closer to him, hoping to keep her warmth next to him a bit longer as the wind tore through them.

The trees along the paths were a riot of oranges, yellows, and reds as they waved in the breeze. Leaves that had escaped the trees flew through the deepening night. The sun sank below the horizon as the blue sky gently darkened to black. Stars winked into being, twinkling their light in tiny pinpricks. People lined the streets, but unlike the Muggles on his home street in London, some of the people weren't dressed in any costumes. Others wore simple dresses or robes.

A loud shout rent the air and Harry jumped, spun around, trying to find the source of the noise. His wand in hand, Harry found a large group of people dressed in long white robes marching down the street. The townsfolk answered the shout with another yell and more cheers. A whoosh of air was displaced with a wash of heat as a huge bonfire was set aflame and filled the night with its fiery glow.

Hermione grabbed his arm, lowering his wand, and shaking her head at him. "Really, Harry?" Hermione admonished. "I know Godric's Hollow is partially magical, but be careful."

Harry glared at her. "This was your idea. There's Muggles shouting, carrying on, and burning something. Yes, brilliant plan, Hermione. Witches at a burning party. We should go."

"Shut it. They aren't setting anyone on fire," Hermione murmured even as she leaned forward to get a better look at the going-ons.

"Come to join us for Samhain festivities?"

Harry barely kept in the shout and spun around to face a woman dressed in a long flowing dress and a Muggle witch's hat. She didn't have the traditional green skin, but Harry noticed a small facial mole to the right of her nose. He grinned and shook his head. "Um, no. We… well..." He looked over at Hermione.

Hermione took Harry's hand. "We came to visit someone at the cemetery." She looked around then focused on the woman again. "What's Samhain?"

The witch smiled. "My apologies for your loss, but Samhain can help you with that if you are open to the possibilities."

Harry shook his head, but Hermione trudged forward. "I'm listening."

"Modern pagan traditions vary, but the basis is from a Celtic festival once widely celebrated in the British Isles. It is believed that on the night of the thirty-first of October, the veil between the worlds is thin and the ghosts could cross over to visit the mortal realm."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, Merlin," he whispered then grunted when Hermione elbowed him.

The witch smiled. "I can see we have a sceptic, but it's said that Godric's Hollow is haunted, and many of the old families here in our churchyard have been around since the town's incorporation." She leaned in close, and despite himself, Harry found that he, too, moved in to hear her as she whispered the next phrase.

"Some even tell tales of magic spells and real witches and warlocks that live in the shadows amongst the regular folks."

Harry choked as he jerked away from the woman while she cackled out loud. He glared at her then turned a look at Hermione as she giggled at him as well.

"What else does Samhain entail?" Hermione asked when she finished laughing at Harry.

The witch pointed across the square, and Harry turned to look. People had lined up along the bonfire and were passing a flaming torch out to the adults.

"Here in Godric's Hollow, the Druid priests light a huge bonfire in the square to ward off any evil spirits that may cross over to cause mischief on Samhain night. Each head of house comes and takes a flaming torch from the main fire to make certain the hearth fire is lit from the Sacred flame to keep everyone in the home safe in the coming darkness and throughout the winter months."

"How lovely," Hermione breathed and Harry nodded as he watched the trail of bobbing flames dispersed throughout the town. Inside the cottages, the windows lit up as the hearth fires sparked to life. Smoke began to drift out of the chimneys all over Godric's Hollow.

"If you are interested, there's a Dumb Supper to be had at the pub. It doesn't cost much, and the host will explain it all to you before you go in, but you are welcome to partake."

"Thank you," Hermione answered and the woman inclined her head then seemed to float off down the street toward the bonfire where she gathered a flaming torch and made her way towards a small, dark cottage towards the southern edge of the street.

Harry watched her go then turned to Hermione. "I suppose you want to go to this Dumb Supper?"

Hermione licked her lips then sighed before looking up at him. "I would like to, but if you are going to be a prat about it then I suppose we can go home."

Harry chuckled. "I know you are trying to be helpful, but honestly I don't know what a Dumb Supper is, and I'm not certain I want to find out. I told you earlier I do not need to say goodbye. I said it on that night in the forest."

Hermione stepped closer to Harry and he watched her as she watched him. 

"I worry about you, Harry," she stated, the words almost too soft for him to hear, and he leaned even closer to her. "You've been so closed off these past few weeks and I thought it was because of the time of year, or the date, maybe. You don't talk much to Ginny any longer, or Ron for that matter, and you only have rather sarcastic things to say to me when I ask about you."

Harry listened to the words, her eyes wide as she spoke, concern plain in both her expression and her voice. He sighed and nodded and she just waited for him to say something, but he had nothing to say to her speech. 

Harry had no words that would truly alleviate the burden she thought he was labouring under because there wasn't one, and he didn't know how to tell her that. He was just sad for the moment and needed a break. He wasn't depressed by the season or the circumstances because while the situation was distressing, it wasn't overwhelming for him.

If anything, Harry missed Sirius, Remus, and Dobby more than he did his parents because he'd had more of a connection to those two men and that one elf than he had to the people that had given him life. Although he was grateful for the sacrifices his parents had made, he only knew them through their best friends and through the collected semi-living photographs that they had left behind.

"I'm fine," Harry answered, finally after Hermione finished talking. "And if you truly wish it, we'll have this Dumb Supper."

"That's all you have to say?"

Harry looked toward the sky, thinking, and then smirked. "Yeah, I believe so. For the moment at least."

Hermione huffed. "Fine. Let's go then."

Harry watched her stalk across the road towards the pub, not even hiding the fact that he was staring at her hips swaying until she turned around and glared at him. "Are you coming or not?"

Jogging to catch up to her, Harry grinned, "Oh, most definitely."

* * *

A man in a white robe waited at the entrance to the pub. Hermione stepped up and Harry followed, just watching her, and enjoyed watching as she learned something new.

"We'd like to partake of the Dumb Supper, please."

The man nodded, then looked over her shoulder at Harry.

"Our Dumb Supper invites the deceased to join you on Samhain night. How many guests in your party?"

Hermione looked back at Harry and he arched a brow at her. She rolled her eyes at him then turned back to the man. "Four, please."

"And the deceased?"

"James and Lily Potter."

Writing the names on a little white card in black ink, the man handed the cards to Hermione. Harry stepped up beside her and stared at the elegant calligraphy script then looked at the host. She nodded at the spelling and handed them back to him.

"No charge, Mr Potter, we are grateful for all your family has done. I hope you find what you are seeking. A Dumb Supper is normally silent throughout, however, we ask that if your loved ones come through to make certain to discreetly cast the proper spells to keep the peace for all. Tonight's feast consists of roast goose or boar, a root vegetable assortment, an apple crumble and soul cakes as well as a traditional Samhain wine or cider."

Lifting his arm, the man waved a hand and the door to the pub opened. "Blessed Be."

"But..." Harry began

"Thank you," Hermione cut across Harry, and Harry stared at the man while he was dragging inside.

"Let me go," Harry finally demanded. Stopping just inside the darkened entryway, Harry blinked his eyes adjusting to the dimness. "Merlin, Hermione I was just going to offer to donate some money for the church. You know I don't like it when people just do things like that."

"Harry, shush. Look."

Looking out across the pub, Harry noticed the pub was decorated in entirely in black. Tables set for dinner in various amounts of place settings were scattered throughout the room. Candles, on every surface and hung from the ceiling, provided the only light. In the shadows, silvery ghosts of all ages could be seen as people milled about. The chill in the room wasn't unlike the Deathday party they had attended when they were in their second year at Hogwarts for Sir Nicolas, but Harry still looked around in awe.

"Do you see them, Harry?"

Harry turned to Hermione and shook his head. "No… well yes, I see the ghosts but not my parents. I… I honestly don't think they would be here, Hermione. I had to summon them with the Stone. They aren't lingering for any reason."

Hermione hung her head, and Harry had the irresistible urge to pat her wild curls. He gave in to the impulse and stroked his fingers along her head, running his palm down the back of her neck and along her shoulders. Despite the unmanageable landscape of her locks, Hermione's bushy mane was soft under his hand.

Hermione jerked as if he'd shocked her, but she didn't pull away from him. She lifted her face, looking up at him. "Harry…"

Smiling, Harry petted her again, just to have the silken feel of the strands under his fingers. "Thank you for thinking of me, Hermione and I apologize if I've given you a headache. I didn't mean to have done, and I don't want you to worry any longer, because I forgot to tell you something else earlier about that night in the forest."

Harry stroked through her hair one more time, his fingers tangling in the ends as she stepped closer to him. "Yes."

"Like the last brother, I met Death as a friend that night and he took the Horcrux from me. That's how I survived and the real reason Voldemort died."

"What?"

"Hagrid wasn't lying when he said I was dead. I was given a choice when Voldemort cursed me. A chance to live my life properly without his interference."

"But what does that mean?" Hermione inquired in a soft voice.

"Mr Potter, your table is ready." The deep voice interrupted their conversation and Hermione jumped. Harry chuckled at her as she frowned at the man.

The black-clad waiter led them deeper into the room around other guests toward a table. The scent of smoke filled the air and Harry sniffed at the scent breathing in the white smoke that floated on the air.

"I love the scent of frankincense," Hermione said. "This has a different undertone to it as well. Wonder what it is mixed with?"

"Myrrh and sandalwood, miss. The room was also cleansed with white sage earlier to make certain only the proper spirits were allowed."

Harry listened to Hermione pepper the waiter with questions, only partially hearing the answers as he sighted the table. 

Just as the room was decorated in all black, so was the table, complete with black place settings, each had a small card stating the party member's name to indicate their seat. In the centre of the table, two candles had been engraved with the elder Potter's forenames. A small bit of parchment and a miniature cauldron rested beside the candles. 

Harry, stood frozen and stared at the place settings, his throat going dry as he murmured the names of his parents. Hermione found her spot, sat next to the one that had James written on it and scooted her chair in. The waiter then leaned in and placed a small sheet of parchment next to her plate with a white fluffy quill.

"Check off your menu choices on the large parchment. Use the parchment in the centre to convey any wishes to the Spirits. At the end of the meal set flame to your wishes so they may be carried to the afterlife."

Harry stared at the papers then looked back at Hermione as she examined the ritual items. Still, he found that he couldn't move to sit, and he didn't quite know why.

With a flourish, the waiter flipped over the two black goblets on the table and quietly inquired. "Wine or cider?"

"Cider, please," Hermione answered. She hummed as she tasted the warmed, mulled fruit juice.

"Cider, please," Harry parroted as the man poured out the deep red and fruity scented drink.

"Harry, sit down," Hermione hissed and continued to make herself comfortable, after a glance around the room. "People are watching, and I know you hate that."

Nodding, he continued to stand though, absorbing all that was going on, struck silent by both the situation and how surreal it felt to be in this place. Taking in the room as a whole, he noticed several others mimicking him, some caught up by the pomp and circumstance, others just as stunned like himself. A few sobs worked their way to his ears, and Harry looked away from one woman with her hands over her face as her companion cast a silencing spell around their table.

"Harry?" Hermione's tone was filled with concern and it pulled at him. Focusing on her, Harry tried to remember why he had agreed to this. The grief in the room was palatable and it pressed in on him like a living thing. 

Harry's breath caught in his throat as he breathed in more incense. He filled his lungs, stealing the air from him. Distantly, he heard Hermione call his name again and he turned his gaze on her. She ignored the room in general as she watched him. Her napkin was daintily placed on her lap as if this were an everyday occurrence, even though her fingers jerked then squeezed the material.

Looking at her, Harry got lost in the moment. She wasn't outstandingly beautiful, but he found he didn't care so much about the physical aspect. She was his Hermione. Lovely as she always had been no matter if she'd been fussing at him about his homework, or more recently her dedication to seeing that he wasn't alone more than he needed to be.

Although worry forced lines onto her face, Harry could feel the emotions emanating as she fretted. Care and anxiety and love all seemed to waft away from her. Her brown eyes studied him as if she could work out what was wrong with him. Her full mouth was set in a grim line as if bracing to fight the battle with him. He adored that she was so fiercely determined in her mindset to help him. He wanted to have her with him always. Would this have been what it would have been like to have a meal with his parents, introducing them to the woman in his life? Telling them about his desire to make her his future wife? 

As if the thought of making Hermione his lifelong companion had set something inside of him free, Harry breathed out in a rush and his thoughts floored him. He wanted Hermione, he loved her just as she was.

Reaching out he grabbed the goblet and drank a large swallow of the cider. Warmth infused his entire body and his head swam for a moment as if he were dizzy. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, followed by another drink from his goblet.

Harry sank into the chair between Hermione and Lily's placard as a pang of longing, guilt, and wonder shot through him. He peered intently into the spaces across from him, waiting, hoping that James and Lily would appear, and just for a moment he thought he saw something, but then shook his head and closed his eyes. A foolish wish, he thought and sighed. 

"Are you all right?" Hermione whispered.

Nodding, Harry looked over the menu, seeing items that had not been mentioned by the host. There were several more choices on offer, but after his bout of fantasy, none sounded all that appealing. He checked off his choices and finished his cider. His goblet refilled slowly as he watched Hermione make her own decisions until she finally laid the parchment down on her plate.

"I'm fine, and as to your earlier question, I was given the choice when Voldemort killed me. To move on, stay with my deceased loved ones, and leave the past behind, or to get back on the train of life and live. You can see what I chose."

"But..." 

"No buts. I am living my life, quite well I might add, as I see fit. I've said all I'm going to say about it. Conversation over, you promised."

Hermione pursed her lips together and it took everything Harry had not to laugh.

"Honored Guests." A deep voice resounded in the pub drawing both Harry and Hermione's attention away from their conversation.

Harry saw a group of people in white robes enter the room, and Hermione gasped beside him. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "Harry… I think these people are Druids. I've…"

"Read about them?" He murmured, turning to look her in the eye with a grin. "I'm certain the woman outside told us that there were druids in town that started the fire."

"Yes," she breathed. "Now shush so I can hear."

"You spoke first." Harry reminded her.

"Shhh."

Harry faced the speaker once more as Hermione placed her palm on his leg.

The head Druid had a long beard and a maroon sash around his neck, and he stepped forward as the rest of the group filed out into the pub. They walked through gathering the parchment menus and laid out extra condiments for the meal and other accoutrements needed.

"We hold a Dumb Supper in honour of the dead. In this case, the word "dumb" refers to being silent. First of all, to keep everyone safe and to make your dining area sacred, we have cast a circle around the pub. The acolytes will be around to take your orders shortly and then the silent part of the evening will begin. The incense, cider and wine will aid you in your quest to commune with your loved ones on this Samhain night. Blessed Be."

Hermione stopped in mid-drink and looked at Harry. 

"What do you think he meant?" He lifted his goblet and drank half of the cider before Hermione grabbed his wrist. She drew her wand and carefully flicked it around their table a couple of times. A buzzing filled his ears as she cast Muffliato.

"What?"

"Don't drink any more cider, Harry."

"Why?"

Hermione peered into her goblet and swirled it around as if to see the ingredients. "I think there's something in it. Maybe a potion. Pity, it's too late to cast the bubblehead charm."

Harry licked his lips and glanced down into his almost empty chalice. "Um… too late entirely. I've almost finished another glass." He looked over at her. "It was delicious. Very fruity."

"Harry!"

"Well, it was, and might as well go the whole hog," Harry replied and finished off his cider, nearly slamming the goblet back on the table. He closed his eyes and took a loud, deep breath.

"I can't believe you did that," Hermione inhaled sharply then shook her head. "I take that back. Brave, bold Gryffindor and all that." She squeezed his leg, leaning closer to him and studied his face. "Are you all right?"

Harry leaned even closer to her and carefully slid his fingers along her face to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. She gasped once more and pursed her lips at drawing in more of the incense.

Harry whispered. "I see dead people."

Hermione sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. "Merlin! I can't take you anywhere."

"James was the same way, it's nice to know some things transcend beyond death," a lilting voice answered then laughed.

Hermione and Harry jerked their attention from one another and stared up at James and Lily Potter. Less substantial than living bodies, but much more than ghosts, they moved toward his and Hermione's table. 

"I can't believe it worked," Hermione breathed as she pushed to her feet. "Please… I know you can't sit, but join us."

James shook his head. "As much as we would love to stay, it's harder for those of us that have gone on to crossover. Despite the thinning of the veil, we aren't truly meant to be here."

"But why?" Hermione inquired.

"This is like the Stone, isn't it?" Harry asked, his tone urgent. "Is there a way to banish you back?"

Lily shook her head. "We are only here long enough to reassure you that we remain with you. Until the very end." She smiled at both of them. 

"I knew that," Harry answered. "You told me before." He glanced up at Hermione and motioned for her to sit. "I'm doing well in my life."

"So we've seen."

Hermione sank to the chair beside him and he reached for her hand, grinning as he turned to his parents. "This is Hermione Granger, my... She's mine."

"Just as possessive as James as well." Lily arched a brow and reached for James' hand. His fingers slipped neatly between hers as he nodded at Hermione. "Well, nice to meet you, Hermione Granger."

"Yours," Hermione breathed and stared at Harry even as she answered Lily. "You as well."

Harry took Hermione's other hand in his as Lily and James faded away, leaning forward to press his mouth to hers.


End file.
